


Epilogue

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, M/M, Master/Servant, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3318260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ori discovers that there’s more to being Dwalin’s servant than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Dwalin and Balin are nobility. Ori is lower-class and ends up being there servant. (Maybe Balin has agreed to also teach him scribe stuff). Anyway, he ends up becoming Dwalin's personal servant, and that is the societies equal of bed-warmer/bed-partner, and Dwalin tries to hint at a physical relationship, cuz Ori is very pretty. Ori is oblivious, so Dwalin drops it, but everyone else assumes they are doing it. Dwalin doesn't tell them they're not, because as long as people believe Ori belongs to Dwalin, they won't touch him. And if Dwalin can't have Ori no-one can. Then something happens, someone asks Ori or Ori hears what a personal servant is 'supposed' to do and he confront Dwalin. Wether it's just a heart-warming educational speech on Dwalin's part and they continue with the pretence or if they end up fucking is up to the filler. +100 if it's Kili or Fili that end up telling Ori that he should be sleeping with Dwalin +1000 if Thorin helps Dwalin through his man-pain and helps him make a decision” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=24417397#t24417397).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Even with his share of the treasure—considerably less than a fourteenth once the men and elves and Iron Hills dwarves have had their pick—Ori’s place is servitude. Thorin promised to treat them all like equals once Erebor was reclaimed, and of course Ori trusted this; he’s never doubted Thorin’s intentions. But Dáin is a different man, and thirteen dwarves are nowhere near enough to rebuild a great city. They need Dáin’s help, and it comes with a price: Dwarven traditions, the way they’ve always been.

So Ori is relegated to the role of a servant. Dori, for all his bravery and loyalty in the battles of old, can rise to a higher level. At first, Ori thinks he can just be Dori’s servant, but then Dori shakes his head, blushing hotly, and Ori is told he will have to find someone else. Nori has no official standing; somehow, he manages to weasel his way into a tidy sum of money that keeps him safely off the records. It isn’t a life Ori wants, so he declines Nori’s offer to tag along. Under the watchful eye of Dáin’s people, Ori appeals to Balin, who gently suggests Dwalin might be a better option. Dwalin—Ori’s first choice to begin with (although he might’ve not had the courage to ask on his own)—agrees with the same odd reservation Dori seemed to have, but Ori is insistent that he would truly appreciate the favour. It helps that Dwalin and Balin have adjacent quarters, and Balin offers to help teach Ori the ways of the scribe—a much better calling to Ori’s tastes than the usual mining or fighting. 

Ori isn’t accustomed to the ways of Erebor, which, it seems, are far different from those of the Blue Mountains. But for a while, he gets along just fine. With the help of new allies, Thorin is able to reclaim his throne, reopening the old halls to let in his subjects and finding new ways to amass their own resources. At first, they have to trade for food, but with enough supplies and work they can open the old stores. Everyone pitches into help, Dwalin most of all, as Thorin’s right hand. Ori does what he can, but spends more time restoring the libraries with Balin than anything else. Except, of course, when he’s bringing Dwalin food or cleaning Dwalin’s quarters, washing Dwalin’s clothes and drawing Dwalin’s baths. He’s given his own cot across from Dwalin’s in the same room, which strikes Ori as odd but not odd enough to fuss over. Erebor is _huge_ , but new rooms are filled every day, and soon there’s talk of children being born in the greatest kingdom of the dwarves. 

Ori once asks Dwalin of this—if he’ll find a woman and sire young, but Dwalin shakes his head gruffly and doesn’t answer. It’s a relief, in a way, because losing Dwalin, or having to share him, would take some of the joy out of Ori’s life. As their time goes on, Dwalin spends more and more time with Thorin, and finally, Ori starts to stay out late as well. Dwalin seems perfectly happy with his service, so he imagines he has some leeway. 

He’s in the library when Fíli and Kíli find him. He asks first what they’re looking for, knowing that the two princes do little reading and probably wouldn’t be able to tell one scroll from another without his help. While Fíli peers over the table Ori’s working on, open books everywhere in the middle of translation, Kíli asks, “Where’s Dwalin?” It strikes Ori first as a strange question, but Kíli looks genuinely confused.

Having no solid idea, Ori guesses, “Perhaps speaking with Thorin? He’s been doing that a lot lately.”

Fíli pulls back, and the two of them look at each other. Ori gets the distinct impression that they’re sharing an understanding he isn’t privy to, until Fíli shrugs and says, “Yeah, he’s probably getting advice.”

“Advice?” Deciding his work can wait, Ori puts down his quill. The brothers are looking at him with barely veiled sympathy, which leaves him even more perplexed. He spends most of his days and all of his nights at Dwalin’s side. He would like to think Dwalin would talk to him if anything were wrong. Perhaps he doesn’t have as valuable opinions as Thorin, but he could still listen. And he _likes_ listening to Dwalin, too. As difficult as it can be to live so closely to such a handsome, strong, out-of-reach dwarf, Ori’s always enjoyed their relationship. Dwalin saved him more than once on the journey here, and Dwalin’s always the one that listens to him when he needs it. Dwalin’s the one that occupies most of his thoughts. It’s his _duty_ to take care of Dwalin, and yet, evidently, he’s missed something. 

When Ori comes up with nothing more, Fíli says slowly, “Not to impose, but... obviously you two are having problems.”

While Ori blinks, sitting upright in surprise, Kíli elaborates, his tone consolatory, “I mean, it’s pretty late, so you should really be in Dwalin’s bed by now.”

Ori’s cheeks instantly flush. Clearly, he misunderstood. “Why would I be in Dwalin’s bed?”

“Aren’t you usually?” Kíli asks.

“No.” His face gets hotter.

Fíli tilts his head like Ori’s some strange creature that needs to be viewed sideways to make any sense. “Why not?”

Ori’s burning up. He fidgets in his chair, hands falling off the table to his lap, where he rubs his thighs and straightens his shoulders, feeling rigid and cornered. They can’t possibly _know_ about his crush; he’s never told anyone, and he’s always careful not to let it rule him—he couldn’t risk Dwalin finding out and sending him away. He doesn’t even stare too long when he helps Dwalin into the bath or linger too much when he helps fasten on Dwalin’s armour. He might think about it afterwards—he couldn’t _not_ , given how gorgeous Dwalin’s body is and how fierce and intense Dwalin’s face always looks—but he’d never act on it. He knows better than to try anything with nobility, even if, once upon a time, they felt like equals. They were never _truly_ equal. Even without their bloodlines and history, Dwalin’s strong and brave and just generally out of Ori’s league. 

But the princes keep watching him, so finally he struggles and asks, “Why would I just presume that?” It seems like a very rude thing to simply crawl into someone’s bed like a lover.

“Well...” Fíli starts, then looks at Kíli, clearly lost. 

Kíli shares the look, then tells Ori, with a shrug like it’s nothing special and completely obvious, “You’re his bed-warmer, aren’t you?”

“No!” Ori’s voice comes out shrill, and he stumbles to explain, “I’m not! I’m just his personal servant!”

“That’s the same thing,” Kíli says. He looks dead serious.

Fíli nods in confirmation. Ori takes a moment to digest, be sure he heard right, and then he’s shocked.

He sits, for a minute, completely wound up in his chair, and then he slumps back, dazedly looking down across his desk and right through it. That _can’t_ be right. Dwalin never said anything... none of them ever did... of course, he never really bothered to educate himself on Erebor’s customs. It all just seemed so simple, the duties so obvious, and Dwalin never corrected him, so of course he’d assumed he was doing alright. But now...

He looks up at them again, sure this must be some bizarre, wholly unfunny joke, but Kíli just asks, looking puzzled, “You really didn’t know?”

“Even if you don’t like him romantically,” Fíli starts, which means he mustn’t know of Ori’s feelings after all, as Ori would absolutely like to serve Dwalin romantically, “you should still be providing physical release for him. We all just assumed you were doing that. I mean, you’re cute and one of the heroes from our quest; didn’t you wonder why no one else ever flirted with you?”

“No,” Ori squeaks, not even able to comprehend the ‘cute’ complement right now. His mind’s too busy swimming—they all thought that? All along? No wonder Dori didn’t want him in that role, if these are the assumptions that go with it. It never even occurred to him that anyone, Dwalin or another dwarf, would be interested in him and held back because of his tie to Dwalin. 

He’s still fumbling through it when Fíli gently suggests, “...Maybe you should find a different job. You’ve probably learned a lot from Balin by now, and you must have some gold left. And Thorin has more time for individuals now than when we first were reclaiming Erebor. Surely he could help you settle into something more suited to you...”

Ori doesn’t _want_ something else. But he’s not sure if he should keep this job either, because he’s had it for so long and Dwalin’s never touched him. But Dwalin, of course, must know; he’s _from_ Erebor. Which just makes no sense. 

Finally, he announces, “I have to think about this.” Fíli and Kíli nod like they understand, though, of course, they couldn’t possibly. They don’t even ask him whatever they came in to look for. They let him hurriedly tidy up his table, and then he squeezes past them. He marches right out of the library without even saying goodbye to Balin; hopefully, Fíli and Kíli will explain. A part of Ori feels hurt that Balin sent him to Dwalin without telling him that he was meant to warm Dwalin’s bed, but then, perhaps they all assumed he knew. 

Dwalin’s quarters are empty when he gets back, which gives him equal parts trepidation and relief. He doesn’t know how to face Dwalin yet, but he doesn’t want to wait. He’s only grateful the halls were as empty on the way. Ori spends a few moments nervously pacing the room, wondering if it’s at all possible Fíli and Kíli really were joking. Then he decides it makes too much sense; why else would Dori and Balin refuse him? But then, why would Dwalin agree? Surely Dwalin, who’s as attractive as he is powerful, could do much better. Although, Ori realizes, of course, that he isn’t meant to be a _lover_ , not really, just to warm Dwalin’s bed. And Dwalin does deserve that much. He works so hard: he should come home to an outlet for his tensions. 

Ori could be that, perhaps. It would hurt, he imagines, to touch Dwalin without any feelings under it. But he could it, and he’d rather it be him than someone else. Perhaps Dwalin would want him, even if only to pretend he were someone else, someone actually worthy. 

In the end, he comes to sit on Dwalin’s bed, fidgeting more nervously than ever. He can’t help but eye his own cot across the room and think of all the nights he’s spent trying not to touch himself to the sight of Dwalin’s broad shoulders and sturdy back and the heady musk of him after a hard day’s work. There have been times Ori’s spent hiding in the closet or the washroom, just to have that moment alone, and now he wonders if he should’ve been doing so in his bed. Assuming, of course, that Dwalin would even want such a display. 

Dwalin’s mattress is thicker than his. The sheets are softer, more expensive, but that’s to be expected. Even with his savings, Ori’s put most of his gold away. He wonders if he should strip, but it’s too embarrassing a thought, and he wouldn’t know what to do if Dwalin didn’t want him. It’d be too imposing and presumptuous. And extremely humiliating. And then he’d probably be out of a job, if not living in the presence of a very uncomfortable master.

So he sits where he is with his hands in his lap, twitching and trying not to tremble. By the time Dwalin’s come home, Ori’s reached an odd sort of calm that’s just on the verge of total panic. He looks up as soon as the door opens. Dwalin shuffles inside with his usual big heavy armour that he wears when acting as Thorin’s honour guard, and it clinks against itself as he turns to spot Ori.

Surprise washes over Dwalin’s face, but he gathers himself quickly. Ori shoots to his feet out of habit. He hesitates with his first step, but then rushes across the room like he always does to help Dwalin out of the armour. Dwalin could do it himself, of course, but Ori prefers to earn his wages. He helps unlace the thick ties that hold it all together, peeling away different layers of polished metal. It’s a heavy pile he carries back to the desk in the corner, but he manages, leaving Dwalin in a brown tunic and slacks. His beard is slightly matted again, as though he’s been kneading it or in a skirmish, and Ori almost offers to brush it—one of his favourite activities—but quickly stops himself. They have enough trouble without him sitting in Dwalin’s lap, intimately grooming his master. 

As Dwalin grunts, “Thanks,” and stretches out his arms, Ori quickly fetches him the usual mug of water. Then, while Dwalin’s still standing and downing his cup, Ori shuffles back to Dwalin’s bed and sits down again. Dwalin pauses, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around the ceramic edges. Ori knows him well enough to see it, and he can see that Dwalin’s frown is just a bit deeper than usual beneath his heavy mustache. 

A man of few words, except where it counts, Dwalin says nothing else. So Ori has to be the one to ask, quiet and unsure, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Dwalin turns to put the cup down and takes a few steps towards the bed. He still stops about a meter away before he asks, “About what?” His voice is gruff, almost a warning, and Ori would probably stop if it weren’t so important.

Instead he mumbles, “About my... my duties.” He can feel his cheeks heating again, and he tries to put one hand against his face to hide it, but that just feels even sillier, so he clamps onto his knees again. “Fíli and Kíli told me that I... I’m supposed to be...” he trails off, but Dwalin doesn’t fill in the end, so Ori finally sighs, “warming your bed.” Then he winces. 

Dwalin let’s out a deep breath. Instantly, Ori can tell that he knew all along. He seems to pick his words carefully when he explains, “Maybe I should’ve told you. I didn’t know you that you didn’t understand, I just thought... I dropped hints, Ori. Or I tried to, anyway. But you didn’t seem interested, so I thought it best to let it go.”

Ori’s mouth falls open. Before he can stop himself, he squeaks, “But I _am_ interested!” He wracks his brain for what Dwalin’s talking about, any hints, but he just wasn’t paying enough attention or didn’t understand. He feels ridiculous, because how could he have made such a huge oversight? But the important thing is, “Dwalin, I’m _very_ interested!”

Dwalin looks almost as surprised as he is and asks, sounding almost numb, “Really?”

Ori’s hands fly up again. They cover his burning face. He feels so stupid. “I can’t believe this,” he mumbles, half to himself, “Everyone thought we were... and I had no idea...”

“I’m sorry,” Dwalin sighs, sounding it. “I should have corrected them. But I was selfish, and I let others think that so they wouldn’t touch you.” He pauses, long enough for Ori to peek up through his hands. “We can arrange for you to belong to someone else, if—”

“No.”

“No?”

It takes Ori a few seconds to lower his hands again, but when he does, Dwalin’s looking at him with mixed confusion and fervor. Ori’s face doesn’t cool down one bit. He makes himself clarify, “No, I... I do want you, Dwalin. I always wanted you.”

“Really?”

Ori just nods. 

Then Dwalin’s rolling in like a sudden wind. His hands latch on to either side of Ori’s face, clapping over his ears with thick fingers spreading into his hair and calloused thumbs brushing over his cheeks. Dwalin’s mouth slams into his, too fast for him to do anything but squeak. It’s only closed mouthed, even when Ori parts his lips, even when he _wants_ more, but it’s still fierce enough to knock him over, and his back hits the bed. Dwalin goes down with him, blanketing his whole body. Ori reaches up, only tentative, to wrap his arms around Dwalin’s shoulders, and then he’s clutching on tightly to Dwalin’s tunic, dizzy like he’s in a dream. The kiss seems to go on and on, but when Dwalin pulls back, it’s still too soon. 

He’s bent over the bed, arms to either side of Ori’s body. Ori’s panting as much from want as exertion. For a few blissful seconds, they stare at one another, and then Ori asks, quiet and shy, “Can I be your bed-warmer from now on?” It sounds like such a simple thing, but Ori tries to show on his face that he would’ve, and will, do _anything_ that Dwalin asks.

Dwalin growls, fierce as a dragon, “We’ll snap your bed to pieces in the morning, if you allow it. I’d have you every night if I could.” Ori means to agree but somehow just makes a high-pitched keening noise, giddy at the thought, and Dwalin goes on, “It was torture when you first came to me, Ori. I’ve wanted you from the beginning—how could I not? You’re _so_ pretty and so sweet. You have no idea how hard it was to have you sleeping right over there and not be able to touch you. I’m honoured to have such a cute servant, but I’d like to think of you as more than that.”

“I like being yours,” Ori insists, his voice coming out a little hoarse. Having Dwalin’s huge body flattened over his is overwhelming. Dwalin reeks of sweat, probably from fighting practice or hauling giant stones, and it turns Ori on just as much as it always does. He’s been close before, but never trapped beneath Dwalin’s weight, and now he finds it’s a position he very much enjoys. 

He tugs Dwalin down towards him again, wanting another kiss, and he’s delighted when Dwalin obliges. This time, Dwalin’s mouth opens against his, and while Ori’s busy moaning, Dwalin’s tongue pushes inside, swiping over his teeth to coax at his tongue. Dwalin laps at his walls, digs into his bottom lip, and Ori can’t do anything but squirm beneath him and try to kiss back. It feels like Ori hasn’t kissed anyone in forever, let alone _more_ , and he’s _never_ had anyone like Dwalin, but Dwalin doesn’t seem to mind leading. He claims Ori’s mouth with a feral lust, while Ori clings weakly back to him and tries to breathe. 

He barely notices when Dwalin kicks off his boots, shuffling onto the bed and picking Ori right up. Strong arms loop beneath his back and legs, rearranging him so he can lie lengthwise. His head lands in the pillows, nestled softly down, and Dwalin straddles him before tugging at his legs. Ori barely has to be guided. As soon as he figures out what Dwalin’s doing, he spreads his own thighs, untangling them from beneath Dwalin so he can spread them around Dwalin’s knees. With them held open, Dwalin can lower into him and grind their entire bodies together. Ori gasps instantly, arching off the bed—he can feel the huge, hard outline of Dwalin’s cock digging into his crotch. He’s always tried not to stare when bathing Dwalin, but he couldn’t help it—he knows what it looks like—long and thick and veined, more meat than Ori can probably fit inside himself, but he _wants_ to. Just thinking about it makes his head thin, his thighs squirm. His asshole twitches, channel wanting to ready itself. He learned early on that only lowborn dwarves had that particular feature: the ability to stretch and wet and accommodate a lover, and he’s never understood why until now. It’s almost like his body was meant to be handed over to Dwalin. He can only hope it goes that far, and in the meantime, his body trembles and prepares. 

Evidently, Dwalin has that in mind. He keeps kissing Ori, over and over, blunt and merciless, but he stops in between to hiss, “Stop me if you don’t want this.”

“I want this,” Ori whines, just before he’s kissed again. On his next breathe, he moans, “I want _all_ of this.” That seems to be all Dwalin needs; he doesn’t stop again. His mouth stays on Ori, even as his hands run down Ori’s front, pressing hard into his chest. His breath pushes him up into Dwalin’s hands, wanting to feel it just as much. Dwalin stops at his belt just long enough to unclasp it, and Ori mewls as it’s tugged free and tossed aside. It’ll be Ori’s job to pick it up later, and something about that is incredibly _thrilling_ ; he’s become _Dwalin’s_ in a whole new light. But the new bonus to the job is that Dwalin now serves him just as much, in his own way. Dwalin practically rips the front of Ori’s coat open, the coarse knit nearly splitting. Ori has to lift up on his elbows for Dwalin to get it off him, but he tries to shrug it off his shoulders himself. He’s almost flipped over when Dwalin tugs it out from beneath him. He forgot his own boots, and he struggles to kick them off while Dwalin jerks his tunic right over his head. 

Suddenly he’s lying there in just his trousers, his clothes in a discarded heap on the floor. His second boot goes toppling over the side. He stares up at Dwalin, shirtless, hyper aware that Dwalin’s all hard muscle and he’s nothing but loose flesh. His round belly’s whittled down from the strain of the journey, but he’ll never be anywhere near as strong as Dwalin. He’ll never be chiseled, probably never even be fit, and for a moment, he looks up at Dwalin, sheepish and fighting the urge to cover himself with his arms. Dwalin pauses in kissing him to look him over. 

Then Dwalin’s hands start exploring his body. Their warm palms slip over his skin, applying just a little bit of pressure, blunt nails curled in to drag. Dwalin strokes over his round belly, up his abdomen, murmuring, “You’re so soft...”

Somehow, Ori winds up mumbling, “M’fat.”

Dwalin laughs. It’s a gruff snort, admonishing, and he locks eyes with Ori to growl, “You sound like an elf. Your body more than pleases me. It’s... delightful.”

That’s a word Ori never thought he’d hear off Dwalin’s tongue, but he feels too hot to protest. Dwalin continues staring at him, touching him, feeling up his stubby arms and then tracing his chest, only to push against his breast, shoving him down into the bed. Ori grunts, then gasps as Dwalin’s wide fingers pluck at his nipples, grinding into the little nubs. It only takes a bit of rubbing for them to pebble in Dwalin’s hands. With a growing grin on his face that borders on lecherous, Dwalin adds, “I like your tits, too.”

Ori clamps his hands over his face again. That’s the most embarrassing thing yet, but Dwalin must mean it, because he keeps kneading Ori’s chest and teasing his nipples, until Ori’s writhing and dripping between his legs, his ass practically convulsing with the want to be _filled._ When he squeezes his thighs around Dwalin’s body, Dwalin chuckles and pulls back, only to start on the buttons across the crotch of Ori’s trousers.

Those are torn away like everything else, Dwalin pushing Ori’s legs up in the air to wrestle the fabric off. Ori’s half surprised the material isn’t ripped to shreds in the process, the way Dwalin’s attacking it. Once they’re gone, all that’s left is the thin cloth stretched over Ori’s cock, holding it down and dipping between his legs, branching into two strings that spread over his cheeks in the back. He knows that highborn dwarves have more practical underwear that gives more coverage, and again, things are clearer: the triangle cut out the back of Ori’s underwear is for easy access. Dwalin bends Ori’s legs all the way back to his chest, until his knees are held against his shoulders, while Dwalin ogles down between his legs. He can feel the breeze against his tight balls and knows they’re only half covered, his cock straining against its confines with a tiny wet patch near the tip where his precum’s stained through. Dwalin whistles. 

Then he grabs Ori’s thigh and lifts him up by it. Ori squeaks, his ass lifted right into the air, showing the moisture that’s trickled down out of his hole. He can feel his puckered muscles flexing under Dwalin’s gaze, and Dwalin chuckles, both ravenous and fond, “Ready for me, are you?”

Ori moans and nods so fast it makes his neck sore. He’s _so_ ready—he’s wide and soaked, his cock completely hard, even though all of Dwalin’s clothes are still on. The thought of finally being the instrument of Dwalin’s pleasure is all that Ori needs. His mind’s already swimming with options for other times—how he can greet Dwalin on his knees next time, crawl on all fours to his master’s bed, kneel between Dwalin’s thighs and suck his cock after each long shift, ride his lap every time Dwalin wants it, strip Dwalin properly and kiss his feet. The more Ori thinks of the possibilities, the more he can’t bear for them to be apart, and he lifts his shaking hands to Dwalin’s shoulders, slipping under Dwalin’s beard and hair to hold on. 

Dwalin finally tugs at the ties of his trousers. He doesn’t bother stripping, just shoves them down enough to pull out his cock, massive and rock-hard. It’s just as magnificent as Ori remembers it, only more engorged, the tip glossy from interest. Ori parts his legs as wide as he can, throat full of keening noises. If he’d known he could’ve had _that_ inside him, he would’ve submit himself on their first day as servant and master. 

At least they’re making up for lost time. Dwalin kneels between Ori’s legs and guides his own cock between Ori’s cheeks. Ori’s hole convulses, gaping wider, trying to be inviting. He knows he needs to be open, needs to relax, and he tries to take steadying breaths. But then he feels the bulbous head of Dwalin’s dick against him, and it’s all he can do not to cry.

Dwalin hisses, “Ready?”

And Ori just moans, “ _Dwalin._ ”

With one thrust from Dwalin’s powerful hips, the whole head pops inside, squeezing right past Ori’s furrowed brim. He gasps, immediately out of air, and his body spasms to accommodate, trying to swallow it up. Dwalin only goes slowly, pushing in a little bit at a time, even though Ori would be perfectly happy to be fucked brutally into the mattress. He wraps his arms around Dwalin for support, tugging Dwalin over him, and he’s rewarded by bit after bit of Dwalin’s mammoth cock. The girth is almost more than he can handle, but he’s _so_ wet that there isn’t any pain. It feels wonderful, _perfect_ , to have Dwalin inside him, rubbing at his walls and plugging him up. Dwalin keeps thrusting until he’s all the way inside, stuffed right up Ori’s hot channel with his heavy balls nestled against the round cheeks of Ori’s ass. Ori can’t quite believe it’s happening, and he has to twist his fingers into Dwalin’s beard just to have more proof that it’s _Dwalin_ and it’s real. 

Dwalin pecks his cheek. The mustache tickles, the beard scratching, and Ori whimpers, tilting his face to try and reach Dwalin’s lips. 

Then he’s being ardently kissed, while Dwalin’s cock starts to slip out of his body. It makes him want to sob, but just before the end, it shoves back inside, impaling him again to the hilt, and he squirms in bliss and clutches tighter, his thighs latched tight to Dwalin’s sides. His stomach’s pressed flat into Dwalin’s tunic, his cock crushed between them. He has to wonder if Dwalin doesn’t touch him because it’s so obvious that if anyone touches Ori’s cock, he’ll come in a heartbeat.

Dwalin feels so, _so_ good, but then he switches angles and finds that special spot that turns everything into utter _ecstasy_. Every stab of Dwalin’s cock makes Ori’s body thrum with pleasure. Dwalin kisses him through it, all teeth and tongue and wet lips. Ori’s fucked into the bed hard enough for the frame to groan in protest on every thrust, the slapping sounds heavy in the air. The stench of wet skin and sex is intoxicating, but not as much as the bare scent of _Dwalin_.

Ori’s fucked over and over, ridden raw into the bed, so hard that he’s sure he’ll have trouble walking in the morning, definitely sitting. It’s worth it. It’s worth everything. Ori would have it last forever if he could, but of course, he wants Dwalin too much, _loves_ Dwalin, and he’s so overcome with not just this but the thought of _more_ , the idea of not ever having a bed apart. All he wants to do is exist under Dwalin, taking his master’s cock whenever he can. The way Dwalin kisses him seems to say that Dwalin wouldn’t mind.

But Ori’s young and overwhelmed. He reaches his end too soon, trying to stop it but completely unable. Dwalin hits that special spot one last time, and Ori _shrieks_. A wave of pleasure washes through him, swallowing everything else, and his whole body goes numb, tingling at all their points of contact. He can feel his channel convulsing and his thighs shaking even as he stops, slumping down, spilling himself all over the front of his thong. It sticks his skin to the fabric and spills out the sides, while Dwalin keeps thrusting into him, milking it out. 

Ori’s barely come down when Dwalin’s following, with a wild growl that would put Beorn to shame. His final thrusts make the bed whine like it’s going to break apart, and Ori is stuffed full of cock so hard that he goes sliding up the mattress, nearly slamming into the headboard. Dwalin clamps onto his waist and pounds into him for the last few minutes, while his cock bursts inside Ori’s ass, and he’s filled with a rush of hot, sticky seed. 

He’s left dizzy and panting, lying back in the pillows as Dwalin hesitates. It’s a few seconds before he actually pulls out, trailing his cock and Ori’s juices with him. 

He settles down next to Ori, who’s too satiated to move. All the reality of the situation comes rushing back into him. But it still all seems pleasant, and after a moment of gathering his breath, he looks at Dwalin with a very warm smile. 

Dwalin grumbles, “You’re _so_ cute,” which doesn’t at all help, and it makes Ori feel too fuzzy to talk. In the wake of it, Dwalin chuckles, gaze drifting to the ceiling, “I suppose Thorin was right; I should’ve told you my feelings all along.”

“I should’ve too,” Ori murmurs. They could’ve saved a lot of time. 

But they’ve solved it now, and that’s what matters. Ori, purely on instinct, almost gets up to crawl to his bed: he’ll need a good deal of sleep to recover from that one.

But then he remembers that his place is right here, and he turns to nuzzle into Dwalin’s side again. Dwalin throws an arm around him, pulling him up. 

They don’t say anything more. Ori’s too tired, too happy, and every time he tries to think of words, he just gets light-headed. So he lets himself drift off in Dwalin’s arms, looking newly forward to Dwalin’s morning bath.


End file.
